


The Right Kind of Wrong

by ayumie



Series: The Price of Victory [3]
Category: A Knight's Tale (2001)
Genre: Jocelyn stand-in, M/M, Multi, Shameless Smut (still), Threesome - F/M/M, medieval roofies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayumie/pseuds/ayumie
Summary: In which William keeps being a brat, Adhemar's temper gets the better of him and we have a lady of dubious repute who rather resembles Jocelyn. Also, we're back in dub-con land due to medieval herbs. Seriously, I have no idea how to tag that thing.
Relationships: Adhemar/William Thatcher, Adhemar/William Thatcher/OFC
Series: The Price of Victory [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1177106
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	The Right Kind of Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese translation available here by daomo7:  
> [中文](http://www.mtslash.me/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=321290&page=1&extra=#pid5175546)

From his vantage point near the dais, Adhemar had a clear view of the people surrounding the royal couple. His wife was sitting close to the Black Prince's bride, head tilted attentively as she listened. He had no cause for complaint. Jeanne-Marie was flawlessly mannered, gowned becomingly if less extravagantly than their hostess. Childbirth had added lush curves to her figure, but as befitted a married woman an expensive piece of lace covered the swell of her breasts over the neckline of her bodice and her hair was coiled and pinned beneath a modest headdress. Even though, a lot of eyes kept straying her way. Jeanne-Marie was pleasing in every way. As though a sixth sense warned her of Adhemar's scrutinity, the young woman looked up, smiling sweetly as she caught her husband's gaze. Her smile had never wavered even during their wedding night, nor in the many nights that had followed. Adhemar knew what he owed his name and inheritance. As, it seemed, did Jeanne-Marie. If their relations were not particularly passionate, she always welcomed him in her chambers and lay down readily enough, long, red-blonde hair unbound and spread across the pillows after he had once stated such a preference. In return, Adhemar was as gentle as he knew how to be, keeping his weight off the girl's slim body and finishing with a minimum of fuss. He didn't know whether the small gasps Jeanne-Marie sometimes gave when he thrust between her thighs were pain or pleasure, nor did he particularly care. Were wives even supposed to feel pleasure at being mounted by their husbands? Surely pleasure was for men and whores and beautiful, golden creatures that defied all sense and logic.  
At any rate, Jeanne-Marie had got pregnant quickly enough and, even if the child had turned out to be a girl, the baby was at least as pretty and as sweet-faced as her mother. Daughters, too, had a place in the scheme of things. The thought of the little girl's tiny hands clinging to his large finger brought a smile to Adhemar's face. The child had been left behind at Anjou, of course, but Jeanne-Marie had ordered her care down to the smallest details, as she was ordering most matters regarding the daily business of the castle. Such was her right as his lady wife and so long as her conduct gave no reason for reproach, Adhemar had no cause to interfer. Neither did he begrudge her the cost of her silks and fripperies or the fine horses she sat so gracefully as she followed in the train of the great hunts with the other ladies of the court. Not that she ever failed to apply to him before spending larger sums, even after he had told her she needn't bother him over particulars. Adhemar had even allowed his wife a few weeks to visit her family's great house before joining him at the Black Prince's court. She was the Countess of Anjou and certain privileges went along with that rank. Adhemar's smile darkened as he thought of Jocelyn, all but buried in her husband's estates in remote Cornwall. What she would have done with the freedoms Jeanne-Marie managed with such scrupulous dignity, he shuddered to imagine. 

The skin at the back of his neck prickled. Instinctively Adhemar straightened, eyes searching the hall. William. He had known that the other man would ride in tomorrow's joust and he was not altogether surprised that the Black prince's favour had extended to an invitation to tonight's festivities. He was looking better, Adhemar noted, lithe and strong and as cocksure as ever. Even his clothes were fitting reasonably well for a change, the honey-colored fabric lustrous and of good quality. Another mark of royal favour? A stranger would certainly think him a wealthy young nobleman, a golden princeling living a charmed life. The mere thought ought to have been infuriating, but instead Adhemar felt a different kind of stirring. Yes, a stranger might think William Thatcher the perfect knight, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be brought to his knees. 

Catching glimpse of the look on the Count of Anjou's face, a servant, who had been about to offer more wine, prudently turned away.

*

The great hall was awash with the light of candles. In spite of himself, William found himself hesitating. He would never get used to this: The richly dressed people with their careless confidence, the smell of roasted meats and beeswax, the musicians playing in the gallery. Squaring his shoulders, William stepped forward. A few of the men greeted him, people he knew from the joust. The women were a different matter. Gowned and scented, they cast him sidelong glances, painted lips smiling as they whispered among themselves. The Black Prince might have enobled him, but that didn't make him one of them. Not ever. Most of the time William didn't care. What bothered him more was that he no longer seemed to quite fit in with his friends either. There was something about the way Kate looked at him, some element of reserve in even Wat's banter that made their former easy camaraderie seem strained and unnatural. Only Chaucer, who was stradling a similar chasm as he was, remained blithely irreverent. 

Turning his back on those cool smiles, William held his head defiantly high. He would pay his respects to the Black Prince, spend a few minutes talking horses and armor and then he'd be free to leave. There was no Jocelyn to hold him here any longer. The crowd parted and William's breath hitched. There was no mistaking the man standing close to the dais, tall and dark and handsome and as sinister as sin. It was too late to turn back. William wasn't certain he wanted to. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Things were different now. He was different. Better. In the past months he had thrown himself into the joust, travelling from tournament to tournament with endless days on the roads in between. Deaf to the complaints of his friends, William had ruthlessly pushed himself until all he felt was hunger and exhaustion. He didn't need anything beyond victory. He wouldn't think of anything other than the next challenge, the next joust. His longing for Jocelyn and the other, darker urges that had tormented his body in the night were a thing of the past, a sickness he had overcome. 

The Black Prince's bride was seated next to her husband-to-be, hands folded in her lap, pride in her bearing. He bowed to her, feeling awkward and clumsy. Edward received him graciously enough, a genuine smile warming his often dour features. There was talk of horses, but William had to struggle to pay enough attention to come up with even rote answers. It was shock that was making his chest constrict, anger that was prickling down his skin. Suddenly the soft murmur of feminine voices beside them fell silent. The girl who had been occupying a low stool next to the princess rose, back straight, hands clasped demurely in front of her.

„My lord husband.“

Adhemar's bow was just shy of insolent and William watched the corners of the Black Prince's mouth turn down in response. It was the princess who gestured for him to come closer.

„We have a favour to ask, Count. My ladies and I will be keeping a vigil tonight in the chapel and I would dearly love for your wife to join us.“

„With your permission, of course.“

Marie-Jeanne's voice was as everything else about her: sweetly composed. Cloying. Bland. Adhemar was looking at her, though, proprietory pride in his eyes. Mounted and placed on his mantle, was it?  
There was no question of refusing the princess' request. It had been a royal command clothed in courtly language – even William could tell as much. After Adhemar's inevitable assent, he waited for the other man to turn to him, for some sort of derogatory remark regarding his low birth and general lack of breeding. Nothing happened. Instead, Adhemar looked at his wife.

„Will you remember me in your prayers, lady?“

„I always do. And I shall pray for a son.“

William's shifted, unsure what to do as the conversation continued to flow around him. Adhemar barely even looked at him He ought to be pleased, he supposed. Surely he didn't want to be insulted in front of the Black Prince and the ladies of his court. Unless this was some sort of eleborate set up to make his eventual humiliation all the more cutting. He should leave. It'd be the sensible thing to do, except that suddenly William didn't want to be sensible. Anger was churning in his stomach, hot and tempestuous, the kind that usually made him do something stupid. He turned to Adhemar.

„Are you going to ride in the joust tomorrow?“

And God, he hadn't realized he was going to say anything like this, but he couldn't deny the thrill chasing down his spine as he watched the other man's body tense. Adhemar had ridden in a few jousts since his very public defeat all those months ago, but so far he had managed to avoid William. Not any longer. Instinctively, William straightened and thrust his chin out. He couldn't back down now. 

„I am afraid I am to blame,“ Marie-Jeanne's voice was sweetly contrite, „It is just a silly woman's fancy, I am sure, but the joust has always frightened me. My lord husband is kind enough to indulge me, since all the physicians say that a tranquil state of mind is important when... when-“

She faltered as if unable to finish so indelicate a sentence, casting a cool glance at William from beneath lowered lashes even as one of her hands came to rest on her belly. It was utterly frustrating. What was worse, he couldn't think of anything to say to her without sounding churlish. He really did need to get out of here. He'd find his friends and get roaring drunk. With what courtesy he could muster, William took his leave of the royal couple. He made himself square his shoulders as he pushed past Adhemar, waiting until the last possible moment to deliver a final blow.

„Perhaps it is all for the best. They do say the joust is for young men.“

Prince Edward's stifled laugh was gratifying. As was the spark of fury in Adhemar's eyes. The din of the great hall receded. Without letting himself think about what he was doing, William slowed his steps as he turned around a corner. He didn't make it far. A mere few yards down the dimly lit corridor a hard hand closed around his upper arm. His lips peeled back in a snarl as he was spun around, back connecting painfully with the wall.

„You're playing a dangerous game, Sir Thatcher.“

Adhemar's voice was low and vicious, barely more than a whisper. William tipped his head back, heart pounding. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Had he? He certainly shouldn't be feeling the way he wasm all giddy and on edge. God, he was supposed to be better. 

„So that was your wife. She's pretty enough, I suppose, if you like her type.“

„My wife is none of your business.“

Maybe she wasn't. William knew that he ought to stop right there, but the words just kept coming. 

„They say you dress her as richly as a princess of the blood. They say that her jewels alone are worth-“

He barely managed to cut himself off, face burning with humiliaton as he realized just how this must sound. Adhemar was so close, physically overpowering in every sense of the word. Even dressed in court finery there was no disguising that this was a warrior's body, broad-shouldered and heavily muscled. William pushed back, he always did, if only to see what would happen. Those green eyes narrowed. 

„I keep my wife in the style befitting her rank and lineage. Have you been listening to gossip, Sir Thatcher?“

„Fuck you!“

A shiver went down William's spine as he watched the other man's jaw tighten, mouth as hard as forged steel. Then, abruptly, Adhemar leaned in, thigh between his legs, all hard muscle and unrelenting pressure.

„You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, I might be able to accommodate you. In due time.“

Both men were breathing heavily, tension strung between them. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. No matter how hot and heady the rush of lust might feel. No matter how badly he wanted to roll his hips and ride that hard thigh. Baring his teeth, William cast about for a way – any way – to turn this into a different direction.

„Maybe it's a good thing your wife is praying tonight. You're going to need all the help you can get tormorrow. Unless you really are too much of a coward to face me?“

Adhemar's snarl was just short of murderous. Anything might have happened, but at that moment footsteps approached and, abruptly, Adhemar stepped back. Before William could think of anything else to say, the other man was gone. 

*

William didn't let himself look up as he heard the door open. He knew who it would be, knew exactly how this would end. The sick mix of dread and exhilaration that was churning in his stomach hadn't faded since he had returned to his rooms. Nothing had changed. He had been a fool to think otherwise. 

„Are you going to make me welcome, my Lord?“

A woman's voice, husky and sweet. The gauntlet he had been checking for damage slipped from his grip as William's head shot up. For a moment he thought it was Jocelyn, slim and dark-haired and heart-breakingly lovely. Reality quickly asserted itself. For all that there was something hauntingly familiar about the exotic cast of her features, she was a little older, the curves of her body all woman. Unpertubed by his silence, her full lips curved into a smile even as she looked around the room like she didn't think much of it. Flustered, William rose. Royal favour might have secured him lodgings within the castle proper, but what gold he won on the lists was invariable spent on food and equipment. The trappings of nobility were as far beyond him as they ever had been.

„I am sorry. I wasn't expecting- Who are you?“

And what was she doing here, late in the evening in a stranger's room, unattended by even a maid? Belatedly, William took in the low cut of her gown with the swell of her breasts above it, the way her rich, dark curls - done up and braided with pearls - were uncovered although she was surely of an age to be married. The smile on those red, red lips deepened as she pulled the door shut behind her. There was something about Jocelyn in the way she moved as well, a thoughtless grace that made something in William's chest ache. Her next words hit him like a blow. 

„The Count of Anjou asked me to attend you tonight. It seems you are in need of … relief?“

William's mouth opened and closed as he swallowed an oath. Adhemar had...? He knew of women like her, of course, had heard whispers of what they did for pleasure. It was a favourite topic of speculation among his friends, but he suspected even Chaucer's extensive expertise on the matter ranged more along the lines of whishful thinking. Surely a creature such as the one in front of him wouldn't be swayed by a poet's silver tongue when she had the favour of lords and princes to consider?

The woman seemed to glide forward, hips swaying seductively. It was impossible not to look at the way her breasts were pushed up by the tight bodice, white skin set off to perfection by shimmering blue velvet. She looked so much like Jocelyn... William shook his head, as much to clear it as anything else.

„I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I couldn't possibly afford- That is, I didn't ask-“

Up close, the woman's eyes were as dark as her hair with a liquid shine to them that made them seem even larger in her pale face. William's voice caught in his throat as she reached up to brush her fingertips over his lips. She was wearing rings, he noticed, gems and hammered gold, rich enough to befit a queen. 

„You need not fear me, my Lord. I could not hurt you. Indeed I would not, unless it gave you pleasure.“

As though to give lie to her words she suddenly pressed close, arms twining around Williams nape to keep him in place as she dug small, sharp teeth into his lower lip. William gasped, mind reeling as shock warred with sudden, vicious arousal. Then, finally, his reflexes kicked in. Reaching behind himself, he caught the woman's wrists and dislodged her as gently as possible. 

„Lady, what is your name?“

She blinked, pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. A woman accustomned to arousing the senses. Not Jocelyn, but close. She had been sent by Adhemar, chosen for exactly that reason. He needed to remember that. 

„Simonetta.“

„You have been misled, Simonetta.“

Belatedly, William realized his hand was still closed around a slim wrist. Simonetta's lashes swept down, head tilting prettily as she looked at him. A little color was flushing her pale cheeks, breaths quickening with the beginning of arousal. Or perhaps she was very skilled at feigning such things

„Even if I have been, why not see it as a stroke of good fortune? We could enjoy ourselves, you and I. Surely there is nothing so very wrong about that?“

Wasn't there? It was getting difficult to tell. She was here, scented and sweet and seductive and he needed … something tonight. He had thought that it'd be Adhemar, but perhaps he had been wrong in thinking that this woman, this shadow of Jocelyn, was some kind of cruel joke. Perhaps she was a way to escape.

„You have been misled,“ William repeated stubbornly. „I am sorry. Keep the money you've been given. There's no need to speak of this to- to anyone.“

He couldn't bring himself to speak Adhemar's name and, God, what was he doing? A cool voice cut through his thoughts.

„I think not. I'm not in the habit of squandering my money.“ 

William quickly pulled away, cursing himself for not paying attention. He hadn't even heard the door. Adhemar was dressed in the same clothes he had worn for the banquet earlier, lustrous black wool and a richly embroidered doublet. Made by his wife, no doubt. Fists clenching at his side, William all but snarled.

„What the hell are you doing?“

Adhemar slowly looked him up and down, eyes lingering on his mouth.

„Beautiful, isn't she? And of course you like her type. The two of you certainly seemed to be getting along just fine when I came in.“

Instantly, William glanced back at Simonetta. Her smile had deepened, making her resemblance to Jocelyn even more pronounced, but her eyes held a dark promise that matched Adhemar's. His lip was still throbbing from her bite, the warmth of her body lingering against his chest. As if sensing the direction his thoughts were taking, she gave a breathy little laugh, dark eyes dancing with amusement. Suddenly she was close again, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, and William found himself frozen in place. All about this was wrong, as wrong as the way Adhemar was watching them, all calculation and barely veiled hunger. Then Simonetta was kissing him again, slowly, langurously. William lost himself in the sensual slide of lips and tongue until, after what felt like a long time, she pulled back with a sigh.

„Sweet. As he said you would be.“

The words hit him like a punch. Chest constricting, he looked up. Surely Adhemar wouldnt want anyone to know-?

„What did you tell her?“

His voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse with apprehension. And God, Adhemar would, in the arrogant conviction that no mere woman – no whore – could be a threat. Simonetta's little laugh was all the confirmation he needed and William knew he was blushing furiously. 

„You look like you could do with a cup of wine, little knight. Before everything else. Will you allow me to serve you?“

She turned away without waiting for an answer, skirts swirling around her as she stepped towards a low chest where the servants had left out a pewter pitcher and several cups. Before picking them up, Simonetta glanced over her shoulder. Dark eyes holding his, she lifted her arms in a graceful arc, fingers twisting into the rich mass of her hair. William had to bite back in a groan as, after a few tugs, her long curls spilled down her back. Her every movement was designed to enthrall, to conjure desire and, even knowing what he did, William found himself dangerously unsettled. 

She poured the wine with exquiste grace and, for one disjointed second, William thought that this might be his chance to escape. His friends would be somewhere in the town below, enjoying what hospitality the taverns had to offer. It wasn't too late to join them. He didn't move.

The wine had been mixed with spices, thick and rich and as heavy as blood in his mouth. Flakes of crushed herbs were swimming in it. William frowned.

„What kind of wine is this?“

„A secret recipe, I prepare it myself. Special powders to set a man's blood aflame. Cloves and honey and many other things. Can you taste its fire?“

William hesitated, some remainder of good sense screaming at him to stop. He didn't think Adhemar would have him poisoned, not really, not any more. Unless, of course, this was meant to make him too sick to ride tomorrow. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because suddenly the other man drew close and claimed the cup from his nerveless hand. Adhemar took a deep swallow before offering it back with a mocking smile.

„To courage, Sir Thatcher. If you can summon any, that is.“

Unable to keep from bristling, William glared. The wine was quite good, really, and it did leave a pleasant warmth in the pit of his stomach. Simonetta immediately refilled the cup, dark eyes intent as she watched him from beneath lowered lashes. A drop of wine spilled from the beak of the pitcher and she caught it with her fingertip. It was as red as her lips. William shivered as he felt more than saw Adhemar move around him, behind him. Simonetta's hand was trailing down his chest, briefly coming to rest over is heart, feeling the way it was hammering. William's head was spinning, thoughts scattering as he breathed in the scent rising from her dress and hair. Something was wrong, but he couldn't say what it was. She was too close, too much. Her mouth was against his again, lips soft and warm and insistent as she kissed him deeply. From one second to the next, the confused restlessness within him seemed to gain direction. A moan burst from his lips and his hips swayed fofrward. When Simonetta pulled away, he tried to follow those smiling lips. 

„Don't worry, little knight, the first shock will wear off soon. But this is not something you can fight...“

The words didn't make any sense, not when all he could think about was the warmth of her body and how badly he needed her to touch him again. Blood was rushing in William's ears and he had to close his eyes to keep from slipping into vertigo. Then a hand closed around his cock and he did slip, cup shattering as it dropped to the ground.

By the time William opened his eyes again, a woman was stradling him, dark-haired and lithe and shamelessly, gloriously naked. He gasped at the sight of her. Her hair was unbound, a wild, dark mane falling to her waist, luminous pearls tangled into the curling strands. The graceful slope of her shoulders – impossibly smooth and white – the indention of her waist – so slim – and the curves of hips and thighs – so lush. She was leaning forward a little so her ripe breasts were thrust out, pale flesh peeking through the curtain of her hair. William's hands clenched into the soft furs he was lying on, body trembling with desire, but all he managed was a helpless, choking noise. A name was floating somewhere in the haze of his mind, but he couldn't quite summon it. He knew her. He needed her. Desperately. Jocelyn, a woman's voice seemed to whisper, and, yes. Why hadn't he seen it before? Jocelyn, spirited and headstrong and as lovely as spring. Candles were blazing around them, too bright, too many of them. Had he lit that many? 

Laughing, Jocelyn tossed back the dark glory of her hair and, eyes widening, William stared at the way the motion made her full breasts sway and dance. Her nipples were as large and pointed, painted as red as her lips. Desire was burning through him, but it was overlaid with a strange lassitude that made it difficult to move – to even think about moving. Running a teasing finger down the center of her chest, Jocelyn's teeth gleamed in the flickering light of the candles.

„You wish to touch me, little knight?“

Mouth too dry to speak, William could only nod. It was enough. Jocelyn reached down to grab his hands, entwining their fingers as she settled them on her hips. Her skin felt impossibly soft, warm and silky and utterly addictive. She moved their joined hands up, over her waist and belly until they were cupping her breasts. William managed to flex his fingers, squeezing the warm, firm flesh even as she thrust her nipples into his palms. Jocelyn hummed softly as she rocked into his grip and, after a moment, her hips took up the movement, thighs spreading wider as she rubbed herself against him. The angle was all wrong, though, and his cock – flushed and as hard as he ever had been – lay untouched against his stomach. If only she would shift a little, just a few inches, and he wouldn't even need to plough the moist valley between her thighs, just pressing himself against her leg would be enough. Jocelyn still had hold of his hands, was even now guiding him to tug at her nipples, making them swell even further. Licking dry lips, William heard himself whimper. He drew an unsteady breath, willing himself to speak.

„P-please...,“ he finally managed, voice barely audible and raspy with desperation. Jocelyn stilled and, head tilting prettily, dropped her hands from his.

„Please,“ William repeated, the only word his dazed mind would supply. He was wrecked with arousal, skin tingling, gut hot with it, balls drawn up so tight they ached. Jocelyn's lips pulled into the teasing smile he knew so well.

„Please, this?“

Reaching down, she dragged sharp nails over the ridges of William's stomach before wrapping long, elegant fingers around his stiff length. He cried out, back arching helplessly as he tried to thrust into her hand. The metal of her rings felt cool against his heated flesh, her grip firm and sure and not nearly enough.

„A fine weapon, little knight. Long and thick. You fucked me good, didn't you? Hard. Just the way I like it.“ 

Something was wrong about those words, about that seductive voice, but before he could work out what it was, Jocelyn gave his cock a sharp tug, thumb skimming over the weeping slit. Any reply William might have made, was lost in a rush of merciless pleasure. He was so close to coming and Jocelyn was still on top of him, still pumping his cock without ever giving him what he needed. William drew huge, gasping breaths, as lust continued to burn through him. The nails of Jocelyn's free hand once more dug into his stomach, the sharp pain almost a relief.

„Steady now, little knight. You did not think that it'd be that easy, did you now? I would ride you to pleasure, but that is not allowed. At least not yet...“

Jocelyn was wriggling down his body, hips swaying seductively as she came to kneel between William's legs. He made a noise of protest as she twisted to reach behind herself and his cock almost slipped from her grasp. Feeling dizzier than ever, he barely managed to lift his head to see what was happening. Full lips pursed in concentration, Jocelyn wrapped a narrow strap of leather around the root of his cock and balls before looping the ends several times around the length of the shaft. It was a strange feeling, but not altogether unplesant, a teasing, tickling sensation that made William's hips twitch. The low thrum of arousal was intensifying as her clever fingers once more whispered against his skin, moving quickly now, doing something he couldn't quite follow. Then, abruptly, the leather thong tightened, trapping both, blood and sensations. Unable to even cry out, Wiliam stared down his body. Against the supple, black leather his cock was red and angry-looking. Further down, the skin of his balls was pulled taut, making them look round and full enough to burst. They felt like they were about to burst as well, jostling against his similarly trapped prick with every twitch of his muscles. 

William was panting, head swimming as he struggled to overcome the strange inertia that had him in its grips. His cock was bouncing as he fought to sit up, to reach down and free himself and cum and cum until this terrible need passed. Instantly, Jocelyn was against him, diverting his hands with playful ease. He seemed to have no more strength than a child, his previous determination forgotten as she once more pushed his legs apart, fingers trailing down the crease where thigh met torso. Her touch left a slick trail and then her thumb was brushing his hole, touching him in a way that was so very wrong. Crying out in wordless protest, William twisted. Jocelyn wasn't deterred, slim, clever fingers probing deeper, working him open. Her face was luminous, smile never wavering as she manipulated his body. 

„No? You like it, though, don't you? Such a pretty, pretty boy...“

Face burning, William shook his head. She didn't know. She couldn't know. Abruptly the fingers withdrew, leaving him bereft, open. Jocelyn was drawing him up and he grasped as her gratefully, face nuzzling into the fragrant valley between her breasts. Struggling to pull her closer, he whined, a broken sound rough with need. Jocelyn was laughing again, he realized, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

„ Please me first, little knight. Please me and I might let you spill your seed. But not yet.“

She was guiding his hand from the lush curve of her hip to her thigh and deeper, palm up so he was cupping her sex. Her skin was as bare as a young girl's, William realized with another shock of desire, all silky, moist flesh without the prickle of hair. She was wet and slick, plump, pink lips parting easily as she pushed down on William's fingers. His cock twitched in sympathy as she shuddered against him, tip grazing the soft skin of her thigh. The small touch was enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest. A soft hand cupped his cheek, turning his head to Jocelyn's breast and he greedily sucked the nipple into his mouth. 

„Just like that, little knight. Just like that...“

She shifted a little so his fingers pushed even deeper into her, thumb rubbing over the small nub nestling above her dripping cleft. With a small sigh she started to rock her hips in earnest, fucking herself on his hand. William had no idea how much time had passed. A haze of arousal was clouding his mind, making it impossible to think of anything but his throbbing cock and the silky heat bearing down on his fingers, constricting around them, coating them with juices. Every now and then he managed to turn his head and let her nipple slip from his mouth, begging to be allowed to fuck her, to touch himself, anything to end the pain-pleasure that was driving him crazy. Every time he was shushed and pushed back, breast to his mouth, left to suck and rub until Jocelyn cried out yet again. 

William didn't hear the scrape of a chair, hadn't even be aware of anyone else in the room until rough fingers tangled into his hair and his head was pulled back. Recognition was instant. He would know those cool, green eyes anywhere, always. Then Adhemar's mouth was against his and there was nothing soft about those lips, nothing gentle about their kiss, the intensity of it enough to penetrate even the fever of Jocelyn's drug. She had drugged him. He remembered now. Not that the knowledge was any help with the lust burning through him. William groaned as Jocelyn pulled back, pale skin sweat-slick, gleaming as she settled herself against the pillows. He groaned again as he felt Adhemar's breath against his earlobe, the sudden press of that powerful body against his back. Teeth against his neck now, a sharp stinging pain, and he was burning, needing, clamping his mouth shut so he wouldn't beg. He didn't need to. A large hand sclosed around his cock. A few tugs and the sudden release of pressure felt almost like pain, as sharp as a knife between the ribs. William came hard, sparks dancing in front of his eyes before everything when bright and blinding. 

It could have been over, then. He could have let himself slip into unconsciousness – real or feigned, it hardly made a difference – and let matters run their course. Except that doing so would mean admitting defeat. William drew a harsh breath. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not to this man. Not ever. He flexed his hands, trying to gouge how much movement his body would tolerate. Blessed anger was kindling in his stomach, primitive and sharp enough to push back the low thrum of arousal still coursing through his body. A few more breaths and he pushed himself up. With no clear idea of what he was going to do or say, William faced Adhemar. He could do this, he told himself. In fact, there was no denying that some part of him wanted to. Whatever sick game those two were playing, he was going to win. He lifted his chin just a fraction.

„So are you going to fuck her or me?“

His voice sounded hoarse, raw, but the challenge was plain enough. William watched the other man's pupils dilate, the way those pale eyes narrowed, seemed to sharpen. The reaction was instant and brutal. Adhemar's mouth was nothing like Simonetta's – nothing like Jocelyn's either, a traitorous little voice in his head whispered. It was all he could do to stay upright, arms trembling with the strain of supporting himself. William kissed back just as fiercely, all heat and teeth and the explosive mix of rage and lust he couldn't help but crave. Nothing matched this. Nothing came even close. William had a vague memory of drowning. He must have been very young, because the details were blurry, but what he could recall was the sensation of of weightlessness as he had floated in murky water. Then he had been hauled up, pulled back into a jumble of light and noise and sudden, razor-edged clarity. He felt a bit like that now. Perhaps Simonetta had been right all along. This wasn't something he could fight. But whatever Adhemar could dish out, he could damn well take. When they broke apart, both men were breathing heavily. 

„Oh my,“ Simonetta breathed, drawing both their attention. Her eyes were flicking rapidly between the two of them, lips parting in amazement. In spite of himself, William felt his cock twitch. His arousal had never quite subsided and the kiss hadn't helped. Suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted.

„Kiss her.“

It was only fair, after all, and William couldn't deny the flash of excitement he felt at the leap of desire in the other man's eyes. What was more, it felt right, in so far as anything so fundamentally fucked up could be right. The right kind of wrong, perhaps. Strangely enough, Adhemar hesitated. 

„Kiss her,“ William repeated, suddenly impatient. „I want to watch.“

„You have been holding out on me, little knight,“ Simonetta whispered, tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she watched Adhemar turn towards her. He hadn't, really. He wasn't like this with anyone else. Only Adhemar made him this … reckless. This vicious. Those two were beautiful together, William realized. Both dark and arrogant, bodies as perfect as the carvings of the ancients that still dotted the countryside in southern France. William couldn't help but wonder what he had looked like with her earlier. Ebony and gold like some fancuful carving, his own stronger body enthralled by need, the arc of her lithe form above him. He could see it in front of his mind's eye, could also see Adhemar slouching in a chair on the other side of the room, legs spread obscenely wide, palming himself as he watched. 

Simonetta seemed delicate as she slid into Adhemar's arms, all soft curves against the hard lines of his torso. He did want to see this William realised as the other man's hand slid into those thick, dark curls to tilt Simonetta's head back. Her lips parted around a sigh only to have the sound stolen, swallowed into a kiss. The muscles in Adhemar's shoulders flexed as he pushed himself forward and William knew exactly what it felt like to be claimed by that cruel mouth. And, God, he knew what it felt like to kiss Simonetta as well, to drink in her breath, her smile, rich and red and heady as summer. William couldn't have said which he wanted more. Both, he decided with a flash of defiant anger. He was owed that much, wasn't he? Without conscious decision he found himself pressing forward, against Simonetta's back. The curve of her shoulders felt cool under his hands, skin gleaming and as smooth and pale as mother of pearl. Her delicate shudder continued through his body. Adhemar hadn't pulled back. William shivered as he realized that their legs were touching, bracketing the woman between them and, reaching out, he felt the other man's doublet under his fingers. Fist clenching into the rich fabric, he yanked hard. Instantly catching on, Adhemar freed one hand to fumble with the lacing, finally rearing back and shrugging out of the cumbersome garment. The tunic – already rumpled – followed in short order and suddenly William was glad of the mass of candles. It might not be daylight, but their blaze denched the room in a flickering, golden light bright enough to se – everything. 

William let himself stare. The sharp lines of Adhemar's features were repeated in his torso, broad shoulders and chest, long limbs and flat stomach. A little of Simonetta's lip paint was smeared around his mouth, making him look strangely feral, like one of the savage creatures said to live near the edges of the world. But that was at the core of all of them, wasn't it? Beneath the gilded armor and courtly graces, what was the joust if not savagery. To drive a lance through a man's chest and lift their shattered body off the horse.  
Adhemar's pants were slung low, the bulge in their front straining against the lacing. William's hands had slipped down to Simonetta's waist and he couldn't help the way their grip tightened in response to that sight. On cue she arched back against him, moist breath fanning his ear as she let her head fall against his shoulder. 

„I could suck him for you, little knight. He'll be wet from my mouth and so hard...“

William's thoughts stuttered to a halt even as Adhemar cursed, a string of oaths as filthy as anything that might be heard in a cheapside tavern. Clumsy with haste, both of them scrambled back a little, giving Simonetta enough space to get into position. Adhemar's cock sprang free, thick and flushed as it rose from its nest of dark curls. The first swipe of Simonetta's tongue made both men groan. William watched in fascination as she lapped around the base like a playful kitten before working her way up the shaft. She was clearly skilled, alternating between teasing flicks of tongue with flat, broad swipes, lingering in one spot only to skip another altogether. Adhemar's cock was glistening wetly, pearly drops of precum glistening at the tip and, finally, those red lips parted. There was nothing sloppy or awkward about it as her head dipped down, cheeks hollowing to suck at the fat head. Heat was pooling in William's stomach, cock jerking in sympathy, even as, in a sudden flash of shocked revelation, he wondered what it would be doing this to another man. This man to be precise. He had been on the receiving end of such ministrations, of course he had, but somehow the whole concept had never translated into something he might do. Instantly his mind conjured the memory of Adhemar's skin, salty and musky, and surely the taste would be similar, only sharper, tangier, more primitive somehow. Swallowing hard, William could almost feel the weight of it on his tongue.

Simonetta's lips were sliding down, down, down, throat convulsing as she swallowed impossibly deep. Another vicous oath made William look up and, the moment he caught sight of the look of stunned lust the other man's face, the way those pale eyes flicked between his own mouth and cock, he knew that they were thinking about the same thing. And, God, the mere idea of Adhemar, cold and proud and haughty, sucking him off was enough to make William's breath catch as once more heat flared in his stomach. No. This time he wouldn't be swept away. William made himself sit back, head held high, defiant.

„You never answered my question. Are you going to fuck her or me?“

It was the Simonetta who moved, letting that thick cock slip from her mouth as she rose gracefully to whisper into Adhemar's ear. William went down in a tangle of limbs. Small, soft hands were pulling at him, sweetly insistent even as he was roughly pushed down. He landed on top of Simonetta, cock trapped against the soft curve of her belly, long legs around his waist to lock him in place. William was about to protest when he felt Adhemar's hand slide lower, following the curve of his spine. Yes. This. His head felt forward at the first press of impudent fingers against his hole. Adhemar hissed at the easy slide in. 

„God, you're as much of a whore as she is. All slick and eager. If only your precious Black Prince could see you know. He was the one who pointed out the lovely Simonetta to me, by the way. Asked whether she reminded me of anyone. Do you think that this is what he had in mind?“

It wasn't. Of course it wasn't. This was all Adhemar, the corruption he had somehow spread into William's system, that made him moan brokenly and push back against the intrustion. That got him a another hiss followed by a rough twist of Adhemar's wrist. 

„Or perhaps he has seen you like this? Is that why Edward favors you? Because you spread your legs for him? No? What about your old master, then? Is that the truth behind that touching story of yours? Did that old country knight take you in to keep his bed warm?“

Abruptly, the fingers withdrew and, before he could come up with any sort of reply, rough hands pinned his hips. Adhemar's cock was so much thicker than his fingers had been, splitting him open, shoving in and in and in. He couldn't seem to draw enough air, muscles trembling at the strain of keeping still, of not not clamping down against that hard length. But even as his body adjusted, the first sullen sparks of pleasure kindled and William heard himself gasp. Cool hands were cradling his face, a merciful distraction. Sweat was stinging in his eyes as he lifted his head and he knew he was looking wrecked, flushed with shameful arousal, lips bitten raw against the burn of being fucked open. The woman beneath him was Jocelyn again, her smile tender, soothing. 

„Look at me, love. It'll feel so good. To be filled. To be fucked. And you like it when it hurts....“

His mouth wouldn't quite form the words of denial burning on his tongue, a desperate plea that what he liked was silky skin and soft touches. Not this. Never this. Except that he was still hard, cock leaking precum as it rubbed against Jocelyn's stomach. William bit back on a whine. It felt like he was about to shatter, caught in a trap of heat and friction, ass crammed so full he could barely breathe. Jocelyn was squirming benath him and suddenly the angle was just right and he was sliding into her, cock gripped tight by the satiny folds of her sex. She was very wet, thighs spreading wide to take him even deeper. Squeezing his eyes shut, William panted. It was too much, a maelstrom of sensations impossible to resist and, when Adhemar pulled back, his breath shuddered out of him. For a moment, he was kept suspended, unmoving as only the tip of the other man's cock remained inside of him. When Adhemar's hips snapped foward, William would have screamed, if he had been able to draw enough air to do so. Pleasure exploded in his ass and balls, muscles seizing as orgasm crushed through him. Jocelyn's nails raked his shoulders, the pain of it sharp and immediate, grounding him even as he realized that the rush of arousal had barely subsided. He was still horrifyingly hard, balls drawn up and aching as spike after spike of pleasure shot up his spine. 

Adhemar had been keeping up a steady rhythm, hard, unrelenting thrusts that, in turn, drove William deeper into Jocelyn's body. Was it really Jocelyn? He couldn't remember. Her arms were around him, soothing him as his body was racked with sensations. He had no leverage at all, legs spread helplessly wide, and it was all he could do to keep his full weight off the woman beneath him. He was fucking her so hard, couldn't help it, really. The sensations were bleeding into each other, Adhemar thrusting relentlessly, cock grinding deep, Jocelyn under him, around him, so tight it felt like she was milking him. It couldn't last forever, although for a time it felt like it might. The sensation of Adhemar coming – savagely slamming into him one last time only to stay buried deep – was enough to wrench another orgasm from his exhausted body. It hurt, sharp-edged pleasure tearing through his mind, crushing his chest. It seemed to fill his lungs, dragging him down. This time William did drown. 

It was dark. Only a single candle was left, burning quietly on the windowsill. The small circle of light was flickering, soft and fragile in the shadowed room. As William lifted his head, a wave of dizziness swept through him. He felt wrung-out, aching all over and bone-tired. Then he remembered. For a moment, William thought that he might be sick. Taking quick, shallow breaths, he forced himself to take stock. The back of his neck prickled.  
Adhemar was still next to him, not quite close enough to touch as he lounged casually against the headboard. He hadn't bothered to dress, loose-limbed and indolent like he hadn't spent the better part of the evening fucking William within an inch of his life. 

The woman was gone, but her scent lingered in the room, mingling with the reek of sex and the smell of beeswax. For all that the memories of touch, of lust, kept shivering over his skin, William found that he had trouble remembering her face. Already the whole thing was starting to feel unreal. Dream-like. Nightmarish. Something in between. William looked at Adhemar. 

„Tonight isn't going to keep me from riding in the joust.“

The other man's mouth twisted, although whether in annoyance or amusement William couldn't tell. Adhemar sighed.

„I didn't think it would.“

Then why? Why … this? William almost asked the question out loud. But of course he already knew part of the answer. It was startlingly obvious that Adhemar as trapped as he was, caught in the same web of lust and obsession. William didn't move as those pale, green eyes studied him for a moment, didn't pull away as the other man slid down and came to lie next to him. What had he been doing anyway? Waiting up? Hardly likely. Head spinning, William closed his eyes. He was going to win tomorrow, no matter what it cost him. No matter how badly it might hurt. And then- He looked up again. 

„How about a wager? If I win tomorrow, I'll suck your cock. If you win, you suck mine.“

He didn't get an answer and, after a few moments, William's eyes slid shut.

*

The following day, Wat was strapping William into his armor when one of the page boys who constantly ran errands around court, poked his head into the tent. Knowing better than to try and interrupt his friend, William nodded at Chaucer, who plucked a slip of paper from the boy's hands and tossed him a copper. The herald's brow wrinkled, confusion plain on his expressive face. 

„'It's on' – no signature. Does that mean anything to you?“

In spite of the dull pain throbbing through his body every time Wat tightened a strap, William found himself grinning. 

„No. Nothing at all.“

THE END


End file.
